


Something so magic about you

by ANTchan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Golem K-2SO, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Accidents, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bodhi, Oblivious Cassian, Witch Bodhi Rook, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 06:03:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12624807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: Bodhi Rook lives a quiet life working at a local witchery, peddling luck charms, talismans, and “home remedies” to the mundanes.It’s a good life. A peaceful one.And then Cassian Andor enters the witchery, looking for someone to repair his golem best friend, and Bodhi’s life is no longer quiet or peaceful. Not that Bodhi can bring himself to regret it.





	Something so magic about you

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short fic for day 2 of the SniperPilot Halloween event but hey hey it's not almost 7k words and two weeks late! Because this ficlet sprouted horrible things like A PLOT and WORLDBUILDING and POSSIBILITIES FOR EXPANSION.
> 
> But please, enjoy Bodhi trying very hard not to make his pining obvious and failing miserably.
> 
> Also I want to give an extra special thank you to the amazing [misskatieleigh](http://misskatieleigh.tumblr.com/), who encouraged me through this whole process and beta'd for me. :D

 

 

\--------------------1---------------------

 

_A sleepy and bedraggled Cassian Andor is not what he expects to see after the room flashes with light._

_By the look on his face (and the fact that he’s still wearing loose sleep pants and a tank top) Cassian certainly isn’t expecting to see him either._

_“Um…” Bodhi shuffles back from the desk as if stung._

_Cassian, still in what is clearly his pajamas, blinks back at him. “Bodhi?” he asks. His voice is thick with sleep. His hair is extra fluffy, a little mussed. But attractively so. His eyes confused and bleary. And he is… still sitting on Bodhi’s worktable, long legs splayed carelessly over the edge._

_Fuck._

_“I-I’m sorry!” Bodhi exclaims in a rush of breath. “That was… that was not how that spell was supposed to work.”_

_If anything, that only seems to bewilder Cassian further. Not that Bodhi can blame him. His brows draw together as he glances around the room, taking in the chaotically organized shelves. “Am I… in the shop?”_

_Bodhi sighs, mortified. “Yeah. I think I messed up. Are you okay?”_

 

\--------------------2---------------------

 

The day Cassian Andor walks into his life is the day his peace and quiet ends.

Bodhi works at a local witchery - labelled an “apothecary” and shop of new age curiosities to the mundanes. His technical position is an apprentice, but in practice he mostly just mans the counter because Jyn, the other apprentice employed at the witchery, despises the mundanes who come poking around in groups to giggle and titter over the merchandise. The owner of the shop, an older gentleman by the name of Chirrut Imwe, spends his hours seated at a little table by the entryway, drinking tea to ward off the Jedhan cold and offering mysterious advice to anyone who enters. His husband, a gruff man named Baze, is ever present at his side when he isn’t tidying the displays.

(Whether or not Chirrut offers customers actual fortunes or just dispenses whatever cryptic advice that comes into his mind, Bodhi isn’t sure. He’s yet to get a straight answer out of his employer.)

Basically, Bodhi is the only one who ever does actual customer service, and it leaves him little time to practice his spellwork. The job pays well, though, so he keeps his complaints to a minimum. It’s a good life. A quiet life.

When the bell above the door rings that day, Bodhi doesn’t immediately look up. Chirrut is always the first to greet a new customer from his vantage point in the display nook. But the cheery introduction doesn’t come. Bodhi glances up, finding a man standing in the entryway. Tall and lean, he’s bundled in a thick parka, the furred collar tucked up around his jawline. It’s a must in chilly Jedha this time of year.

Chirrut’s continued silence has Bodhi off guard already, so he can’t be blamed for simply staring at the newcomer as he nears the counter.

“O-Oh, uh, welcome!” Bodhi stammers. “Anything I can help you with?” The practiced speech sticks in his throat. “We have a- a sale today on luck tokens.”

The first thing Bodhi notices, _really_ notices about the man is that he’s got the most intense eyes Bodhi has ever seen. They’re warm and dark, not a particularly eye-catching color, but the way he regards Bodhi with his fullest attention, eyes never wavering, makes Bodhi feel much smaller than his lanky frame. He’s… incredibly handsome. His face is lean and chiseled, sharp cheekbones and jawline. On anyone else, his features would be considered severe or stony. But the soft waves of dark hair tucked behind his ears and his impossibly warm eyes soften the hard lines of his face. These are observations that comes from the back of Bodhi’s mind, as insistent as an intrusive thought. Bodhi swallows, and shoves them back.

“I’m in need of a consultation,” the man says. His voice is smooth and firm, but it’s soft.

Bodhi stands a little straighter, putting a little more professionalism into his tone. He doesn’t sense any latent magic, but few mundanes ever use that phrase. “What kind of consultation, sir?” He nods towards Chirrut across the store. Baze is nearby, as always, his large frame half hidden by the display that he’s busily arranging. “Mister Imwe does readings, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

The customer peers over his shoulder at the pair of them, but shakes his head. “No, no.” There’s a note of a humorless laugh in his voice. He reaches into the pocket of his coat, and sets something upon the counter. “I need a consultation for this.”

It’s a construct core.

Bodhi’s mouth parts in shock, his hands darting towards the object before thinking better of it. The intricate plate is etched with twisting patterns, Hebrew inscriptions and sigils weaving together. Bodhi’s never seen one in person before. But he’s sure… “Oh,” he says softly. The stone at the center of the plate is cracked. “May I?” He waits for a nod before he picks the core up. Bodhi holds it gently, running the tip of an index finger over the etchings. Over the cracked talisman in the center. There’s barely a flicker deep in the stone, the tiniest spark of magic  - not a good sign. “It takes something powerful to break one of these.”

“He saved my life.”

Bodhi’s gaze darts back up, heart twinging at the flash of anguish in the man’s eyes. He watches as his mouth thins, visibly working around the words he can’t seem to quite say. So he asks: “Is the work yours?”

“No. The ones who made him, they’ve been gone a long time. He’s with me now.” Not an “it,” Bodhi notes, but “he.” Again Bodhi is fixed with that piercing stare, but it’s the need shining in those eyes that shakes him right down to his core. “Can you fix him?”

He should do the professional thing, and defer to Baze. _Baze_ is the expert on complex rune crafting between the four of them. If he’s not mistaken, the older man is listening in on the conversation anyway. It would be so easy to simply point him in Baze’s direction.

And yet…

“I’ll do my best,” he says. He squares himself up, putting as much resolve into his voice as he can. “I’m… I’m still an apprentice. But I’ll do it.”

The man smiles, a small, breathtaking little thing. “Thank you…”

“Bodhi.” His voice absolutely does _not_ hitch over his own name. Bodhi tugs the appointment book out of the drawer. “Can I go ahead and schedule you, Mister…?”

“Cassian. Andor. Thank you, Bodhi. This means a lot to me.”

Oh, he’s so screwed.

 

\--------------------3---------------------

 

“You’re so screwed,” is what Jyn tells him two days later, watching him over the fort of heavy old books he’s unwittingly built for himself.

“I know!” he exclaims, leaning back in his chair and flailing his hands. His shoulders ache and pinch from being hunched over for hours. “I should never have agreed to this! I’m not trained enough for this. I should’ve just given it to Baze in the first place.” Bodhi busily smoothes his sketches of the construct core down, frustration making his exhaustion even more potent. Cassian had decided against leaving the core at the shop - which was fine. A few pictures and sketches is all Bodhi needs in the research stage.

(He’s under the impression that being separated from the core would cause Cassian some distress anyway. Even the suggestion of leaving it had caused something anxious to flicker just behind Cassian’s eyes. So Bodhi had quickly amended his request and offered to schedule regular consultations.)

If Bodhi actually _knew what he was doing,_ he could be dissecting the spells and figuring out what exactly is damaged. But the spell sigils are so complex and intricate that he’s spent the last two days struggling to simply identify them.

“You could still just give it to Baze,” Jyn reminds him.

“No, I promised I’d do it. I might… I might ask for help, but I can’t just shove this onto someone else because I’m not good enough.”

When Jyn doesn’t answer right away, he looks up only to find her watching him with narrow, discerning eyes. She’s taken his desk hours with only a bit of complaining and glaring, which he’s grateful for. It’s after shop hours now and she’s spent all shift out there, so he takes her already strained patience in stride. “What?” he asks.

“You’re really caught up in helping this guy.” Her tone is carefully barbed, and he can actually sense her keeping her usual blunt nature in check.

The accusation is barely even there, and yet Bodhi can feel himself blushing. “He’s a customer,” he defends. “And it’s… it’s important to him. I want to help.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that he’s pretty much gorgeous.”

Right. Now he’s _really_ blushing. “Y-You don’t know that. You were back here when he came in!”

“I didn’t need to be. Chirrut was out there. And you know what a gossip he is.”

“ _Chirrut is blind_ and would have _no idea_ if Cassian were gorgeous or a troll!”

Their employer, of course, chooses that moment to pop his head around the towering greenhouse shelves at the back of the windowed storeroom. “I _do_ have an eye for these things,” he announces. He cannot see their unimpressed stares, or the barely restrained eye rolls, but he must sense them in the silence anyway because he laughs merrily. “You spent half the conversation stammering and tongue-tied, my boy. It wasn’t a difficult leap to make.”

Bodhi covers his face, and lets out a pitiful groan. “Stop. Please.”

“Well, that, and Baze has informed me that our new client is quite handsome.”

Bodhi chokes on his humiliated whimpers. “Wha--”

“Baze!” Chirrut calls. “How did you describe him? ‘The face of an angel?’”

There’s a clatter beyond the workroom door. “The face of a _friend!_ ” comes the gravelly bellow. Baze appears a short moment later, scowling. “I said the face of a friend, you wily old fool.”

“You also said he was handsome.” Chirrut sighs, placing a hand to his chest. “He’s going to leave me for a younger man,” he says to Jyn and Bodhi.

The teasing accusation falls on unsympathetic ears, because Baze huffs. “You act like I could stand a younger man, when I can barely keep from throttling you on a daily basis.” Chirrut’s (exaggerated) offended gasp goes ignored as well. “And that I would even be able to attract a younger man with this face.” He gestures to himself, presumably to his severe and scarred countenance.

And just like that, the humor goes out of Chirrut’s face. “ _Nonsense,_ ” he says fiercely. His pale, pale eyes flash. The pot of yarrow he’s tending being carefully set down on the table is the only warning before Chirrut crosses the room towards his husband. “You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on.”

“You last saw me twenty years ago. I hardly look like that anymore.”

“Tch. You think me a fool, don’t you? I see you in my dreams and visions. You are still as beautiful as the day I met you.”

“The day I met you was during the wet season. I was covered in muck.”

“Oh gods,” Jyn mutters under her breath. Bodhi bites his lip to keep quiet. Chirrut continues to… there is no other word than _fawn_ over his spouse. He’s leaning into Baze’s side now, the smile on his face impish. And while Baze is doing a passable job at appearing unmoved by it all, there’s the the briefest twitch at the corner of his mouth. It’s either a snarl or a smile. Bodhi can’t tell for sure. “If they keep this up,” Jyn says brusquely, “I’m going to take one of these pruners and gouge out my eyes.”

Bodhi grins. “You’d still have to listen to them.” The conversation about his intentions towards Cassian seem forgotten for now.

Good.

 

\--------------------4---------------------

 

“Alright, you are pretty attractive.”

Cassian freezes in his tracks, halfway to the counter. “Excuse me?”

The girl behind it is short and slender, her hair thrown up in a messy bun. She’s leaning on her elbows, her oversized jumper sleeves tucked up over her hands. She's observing him; appraising, but not predatory. At least, not the same kind of predatory as when someone usually comments on his looks. “I wondered if it was true,” she says flippantly. “About you being handsome. You're the talk of the witchery.”

“Am I?” he asks flatly. And then, hesitant: “Did Bodhi tell you that?” He immediately regrets it. (Stupid, he tells himself. It’s stupid that it being Bodhi would change anything.) The woman’s full lips twitch into a sharp smile.

“Oh no,” she says innocently. “Bodhi’s a complete gentleman.”

“...Is Bodhi here?” A touch of irritation finally colors his tone. “I have an appointment with him.”

“Oh he’s _here_ \--”

“Jyn!” Bodhi comes bursting out of the doors behind the counter. Cassian tracks his movement the entire way, mentally tracing the lines of his mortified expression. He’s blushing a fetching pink. Cassian smothers a smile. “What are you _doing?_ ” Bodhi hisses to the woman - Jyn.

“Just saying hello,” Jyn says. She doesn’t even try to make herself sound innocent this time. She simply nods in Cassian’s direction. “It was nice meeting you, Cassian.”

Bodhi waves at him to come around, and the moment he seems to think Cassian’s back is turned he rounds on his coworker with a flurry of silent gestures and meaningful expressions. Cassian pretends not to notice, quietly amused by how quickly the lanky young man stills as he clears the bend of the counter. “Just… just this way. Sorry for making you wait.”

“You didn’t,” Cassian reassures. He lets Bodhi lead him into the back room. Kay’s core seems to grow heavy and warm in his pocket as they cross the threshold. Even Cassian, who has only minimal ability, can sense the magic in this place. The warm sun casts amber light through the opaque coated windows at the back of the room. The entire room is lined with shelves, full of plants at the back near the windows and overflowing with jars and bottles at the front. It’s a cluttered space, not neatly arranged like the shopfront is. Half finished talismans and charms lay scattered about the worktables.

And along the wall is a desk piled high with books and notes, which Bodhi makes a beeline for, gesturing to the chair beside it as he sits. “Here, sit! Let me…” He shuffles papers and piles of books out of the way. Cassian looks from them to Bodhi’s face. Those big, expressive eyes that had caught Cassian’s attention on their first meeting are now a little glassy and bruised.

“You’ve been working hard on this,” he observes. When Bodhi glances blankly at him, Cassian gestures to the cluttered desk.

“Oh! I’ve been going through the spellwork on the-- on your friend’s core.”

He tenses up, barely stopping his hand from clenching into fists. “I never said he was my friend.” It’s a paranoid whisper, and Cassian curses himself for it. But nothing has felt safe since Kaytoo had broken. Their lives are not easy, but Cassian has always felt in control. Until Kay had gone and taken that hit for him. Now Cassian feels like a raw nerve, jumping at shadows.

And making baseless accusations towards kind, beautiful, doe-eyed mages.

Bodhi doesn’t appear insulted by his rudeness, though. His smile is shy. “You didn’t. But you talk about him like he’s a person, not a thing. He seems like he’s very important to you.”

Grief chokes him, but so does the rush of gratitude and, terrifyingly, affection. “He is,” he manages to say around the lump in his throat. Cassian removes the core from his coat pocket, offering it wordlessly. He can’t bring himself to part with it, his need to protect his friend is too great. But, he thinks, if there’s anyone he can trust to help Kay - not just to fix a faulty and broken part of a construct but to _help him_ \- it might just be Bodhi.

Bodhi proves him right by taking the core from him with with exceptional gentleness. His elegant fingers are so delicate as they trace the inscriptions. “Will you tell me about him?” the witch asks.

Cassian will look back on this, even years later, and know that if this is not _the moment_ he falls in love with Bodhi Rook, then it is close.

“His name is Kay,” he answers thickly, and can’t help but smile. “And he’s an asshole.”

 

\--------------------5---------------------

 

Bodhi doesn’t stand a chance. He’s completely, irredeemably _smitten._

It quickly becomes the running joke of the shop, something gently teased at him from behind the closed door of the workroom, or in sly glances shot over Cassian’s head when the man has his back turned. Jyn is the constant culprit of these, though Bodhi is starting to wonder if she does it for the sole purpose of riling him. But Chirrut and even _Baze_ are not immune to it.

(“Cassian seems a good man,” Baze grunts at him one evening without warning. “Worthy of your time.”

“You know, I wooed Baze with feats of magical and martial skill,” is one of Chirrut’s many - _many_ \- attempts at advice. “Cassian is quite impressed with you already, but a little showing off wouldn’t hurt anything.”

“Would you just _do something?_ ” Jyn sighs at him almost everyday. “I’m getting tired of you two making cow-eyes at each other. You’re getting as bad as Baze and Chirrut.”

“ _Nothing_ is as bad as Baze and Chirrut,” is what Bodhi always argues.)

If Bodhi didn’t love them so much, he might actually hate them.

At the very least, he manages not to make his outright yearning too obvious. The weeks come and go, and Cassian continues to show up for his consultations. He’s remarkably patient about the whole thing. Bodhi’s corner of the workroom becomes covered in spell schematics and research notes as he puzzles out the convoluted mosaic of spells on Kay’s talisman. It’s a slow, arduous process. Even more so for an apprentice like Bodhi. But Cassian never complains, even though Bodhi still isn’t quite sure what exactly has been damaged.

Privately, Bodhi worries that he’s subconsciously dragging his heels to keep Cassian around. That fear has been the fuel for more than one sleepless night with Bodhi pouring over his notes. To little avail.

The golem’s name inscription is scratched. Bodhi can barely make out the “designation” K-2SO in Basic above the central stone. But any offer of fixing the inscription is met with mild alarm from Cassian. According to him, K-2SO wishes to be called “Kay” or “Kaytoo” instead.

Bodhi… Bodhi isn’t quite sure Cassian is even aware of the significance of that.

(He stares at Cassian for several moments when he reveals this information. “...He named himself?” he asks quietly.

Either Cassian doesn’t hear awe in his voice or he mistakes it for confusion. “Yes. I asked him what he wanted me to call him, since his name was scratched. And he told me. So that’s who he’s been.”)

There are several other minor spells that appeared to be damaged - subservience and directive spells that have been inoperative for what seems like several years. These Cassian also asks to leave as they are.

(“He likes being able to choose his own path,” he explains. “The place his makers had him guarding is emptied out now anyway. It would be cruel to send him back.”

“The old damage seems to have done something to his personality makeup,” Bodhi cautions. He’s thinking along the lines that it could make Kaytoo unstable. But Cassian only smirks.

“If you’re telling me it makes him insufferable, I already got that. Thanks.”)

If Bodhi wasn’t already to halfway in love with the man, he would have fallen then and there.

So Bodhi continues the slow research grind with the core. He spends the days between Cassian’s visits picking the spell theory apart piece by piece, like a weaver painstakingly pulling at knots in a tapestry. It’s slow, arduous work for him. Each of Cassian’s consultations is just Bodhi performing spell after diagnostic spell, attempting to find exactly which of those proverbial knots to unravel and doing his best _not_ to make a complete fool of himself.

(His most humiliating failure of this is the day a spell goes horribly, _horribly wrong_ , an explosive reaction ending in a blast that sends Bodhi flying and knocking over the worktable in the center of the room. The fear on Cassian’s face as he and Jyn sprint into the back room is still burned into Bodhi’s mind. The way his eyes had darted, searching for an unseen enemy - or _Kay_. The fear that Bodhi had somehow destroyed his friend. Bodhi… prefers not to think about that day, if at all possible.)

The lack of progress, _real_ progress, is disheartening for both of them. Cassian pretends not to be, but Bodhi can see the weariness that just keeps growing with every visit. There’s a tightness around his eyes that only worsens as weeks of fruitless consultations pass by. Bodhi wouldn’t call Cassian Andor a morose man, exactly. But there’s a weight that he seems to carry with him, one that only seems to grow heavier. A loneliness that the man can’t quite seem to conceal.

Idly, Bodhi wonders if Kaytoo is his only close friend. He never hears Cassian talk about anyone else. No family. No spouse or lover. (He does not, does _not_ let himself think about that too closely.) He barely offers any personal details about himself, though he’s always kind and curious about Bodhi.

It’s thoughts like these, chasing themselves around Bodhi’s head for days on end, that lead to The Spell.

It’s supposed to be simple. Bodhi has done spells like it several times. It’s one of the first type he learned to cast for the shop.

And then late one evening, alone in the witchery after too many failures and sleepless nights, Bodhi accidentally summons Cassian Andor (confused, sleepy, soft, breathtaking, and beautiful) to him.

 

\--------------------6---------------------

 

“I don’t know what I did _wrong,_ ” Bodhi hisses through clenched teeth the next morning. Jyn, standing beside him at the shelves, doesn’t exactly laugh at him, but her smile is telling him she wants to. “Stop it! It’s not funny. It’s horrible.”

“Oh yes,” she falsely placates, “how horrible. You got a surprise magical visit from your crush. Did he have cute pajamas? Or is he a boxers or briefs kind of guy?” The laugh she’s barely keeping back finally bursts free as he drops the box of charms back onto the shelf, turns, and promptly smacks her arm. His face feels like it’s on fire.

“You’re awful!” he accuses.

Jyn, damn her, doesn’t dispute this. “What spell were you casting, anyway? A love spell?”

Bodhi elbows her again for good measure. “ _No!_ ” He wants nothing more than to leave it at that. But Jyn stares at him as the silence stretches on. “It was just a simple spell,” he says defensively. “I’ve done them a hundred times for the charms we sell. I don’t know what went wrong.”

“Okay… and what were you _trying_ to do?” Jyn repeats herself.

Bodhi suddenly finds the little decorative charms in his hands very interesting. “I just wanted him to be happy,” he mutters.

Jyn leans closer. “Say again?”

He sighs. “I cast one of those luck spells. The ones for luck in happiness. The more concentrated of the ones we put on these things.” He holds up one of the charms in his hand. It’s a simple little thing. A tiny etched talisman on a chain of metal beads and other decorative charms that Baze takes quiet pride in assembling. These particular charms are meant to hang - off a keychain, on a bag, over a workspace - rather than the jewelry items they sometimes craft. The only thing of actual magical value is the stone at the center of the piece, inscribed with a Jedhan starbird on one side and the spell sigil on the back. “He seems… lonely. Unhappy. I just wanted to give him some luck, you know? I thought if I couldn’t fix Kay fast enough, then I could at least give him that. But even _that_ didn’t work.”

Jyn sets her own box down, and turns to him. The _look_ in her eyes has him leaning back slightly. “Bodhi,” she says solemnly.

“Uh… yes?”

“You cast a spell to bring him happiness.”

“Y-Yes? Are you going to make fun of me for that too?”

But she plants her hands on her hips, and continues to stare at him. “Bodhi,” she says again, slower this time. “You cast a spell to make him happy, _and he appeared here._ What does that tell you?”

He blinks, turns that thought over in his head for a few moments. “Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

“It… does,” Jyn asks, but her tone if flat and it barely passes as a question.

“Yeah. He does seem to like being here. It’s… It’s good that being here makes him happy.” Bodhi nods in agreement with his own assessment. Cassian does seem to like their shop. He’s settled in with them, waiting out in the shopfront some days when Bodhi needs to cast spells. He talks with Jyn or lets Chirrut tell his fortune or sits quietly with Baze, assembling charms. One day Bodhi came out to the four of them huddled around Chirrut’s table, playing cards. (Exactly what, Bodhi can’t even begin to say. From the explanation he’d been given, it started as poker, and quickly devolved into some convoluted variation of bullshit. All parties involved blame Chirrut for this. Chirrut is to this day remorseless.)

It makes sense that Cassian is happy here.

Jyn, on the other hand, is less than impressed with him. Her eyes go wide, her teeth baring in an expression of such acute frustration that Bodhi is sure she’s about to lean over and throttle him. “You--” she starts, her voice raised, and then Jyn lets out a sharp laugh. That quickly turns into… what Bodhi can only describe as giggles.

And that is _terrifying._

“Jyn…?”

She holds up a hand, and spends several more minutes gasping for breath. He watches, utterly bewildered, as her shoulders continue to shake. Bodhi calls her name again. “You're on your own,” she tells him instead. Her voice is still hitched with barely contained laughter. Jyn turns and begins to stalk back towards the counter. “I’m not just handing you the answer. Figure it out yourself, Bodhi.”

And that’s where she leaves him.

“What… what does that _mean?_ ” Bodhi shouts after her. “Jyn! You can’t just-- what does that mean?!”

 

\--------------------7---------------------

 

She won’t tell him what she means, because Jyn is heinous like that. In fact, she seems to take a twisted kind of pride in holding it over him. All she does for the rest of the day is give him sardonic little looks, or, at her most insolent, a sympathetic pat to his arm.

“I can turn you into a frog, you know,” Bodhi tells her.

Jyn isn’t the least bit threatened. But then, he never expected her to be.

It’s Chirrut who actually offers him any advice at all. He listens attentively as Bodhi recounts the entire mortifying experience, and, to his credit, only smiles at Bodhi’s expense. “It sounds like your night was _interesting,_ ” he finally quips, gentle laughter in his voice. It’s not even mocking. And somehow, that makes it worse. “And was he, then? Happy?”

“Mostly I think Cassian was just confused.”

“Hm, I bet we was.” His pale eyes sparkle. “So your spell brought him to his place of happiness, did it?”

Bodhi sighs. “I think so, yeah. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It was just supposed to… well, you know. Focus his energies. Bring him luck towards finding happiness.”

“If the spell went so far as to bring him here, then this must be a significant source of happiness for him,” Chirrut says pensively. He brings hand up to his chin in thought. “I don’t think your spell was _wrong,_ Bodhi.”

Bodhi is still caught on the idea that Cassian’s attachment to the shop and to _them_ might have been so strong that it magically teleported him there. “Uh… you… you don’t?” The anxiety that’s been winding tight just beneath his ribs uncoils, just a little.

“No. From what you’ve told me, you performed everything correctly. I suggest you try again.” He reaches for Bodhi, his hand finding his shoulder easily. Bodhi still isn’t quite sure how he does that. If it’s an ease that comes with practice or something altogether magical.

Bodhi licks his lips. It’s not a matter of obeying his employer if the urge was already there. It’s why he sought Chirrut out in the first place, rather than pretending the night before had never happened. He’s going to find a way to make this spell work. Because Cassian deserves some small measure of happiness - even if it’s something so tiny as finding credits in his parka, or the market having his favorite snack on sale.

“But what if it happens again?”

A smile creeps over Chirrut’s face. “A change of scenery will solve your problem, I think. Try it at home, instead of the shop. But not in the dead of night! Spellwork is best done when you are focused, clear-headed, and _rested._ ”

Bodhi can work with that. “If you think that’ll work…”

“I do. In fact, I feel doing so will answer many of your questions, hm?”

Of course, later, staring into Cassian’s eyes, once _again_ barely inches away as the man appears on his goddamn kitchen _table_ , all Bodhi can think is:

 _‘God_ ** _damnit_ ** _Chirrut!’_

 

\--------------------8---------------------

 

This is quickly becoming a habit. A disconcerting one, but not one that Cassian can say he hates.

It’s inconvenient, yes. But who is he to say no when one minute he’s alone in his cold, empty apartment, holding Kay’s broken core in his hands, and the next he’s face-to-face with Bodhi? So close he can feel the mage’s gasp of surprise?

Cassian is, quite possibly, just maybe, lonely. A sad, lonely husk of a man.

Kay always was in the habit of reminding him that: “Humans require companionship to thrive, Cassian. No, companionship from _other humans._ It can’t be just me. If something happened to me, what would become of you?”

(The answer is that Cassian will wither and drown in his misery, desperate to find a way to repair his friend. That he will walk into a tiny witchery expecting little and gain _everything._ )

“C-Cassian, I am so… _so_ sorry,” Bodhi’s stammering as Cassian gets lost in his thoughts. He’s stepped back, putting a respectable distance between them. Some part of Cassian, a part of him that has been growing and hungering with each passing day, yearns to close the gap.

Cassian says nothing (better to say nothing, for fear of saying something he can never take back), and glances at his new surroundings. It’s not the shop this time. It’s a cluttered kitchen, with exposed brick and pots simmering away on the stove. The shelves are the same as those in the shop’s workroom but on a smaller scale - a tasteful mess of books, jars, and bottles. It’s Bodhi’s apartment, clearly, as if Bodhi’s presence in it wasn’t sign enough. He’s not wearing his usual tidy clothes - his well-fitting button ups or his elegant tunics. Instead he’s in a faded t-shirt and ratty jeans, his hair pulled up in a messy bun. He’s never looked more comfortable, or more beautiful, and…

Well, Cassian’s just happy he didn’t appear before Bodhi in his pajamas this time.

“Hi Bodhi,” he says easily, fighting to keep this from being any more awkward than it already is. “Spell go wrong again?”

Bodhi groans in miserable frustration, and lifts hands into his hair. Cassian’s eyes track the movement, and wonders. Exactly _what_ he wonders, he will not put words to. That way lies madness. Kay’s core is still in his hands, and his fingers tighten around it. “Yes-- I am, gods, I’m so sorry. You must be so pissed. I hope I didn’t completely ruin your night--”

Cassian shakes his head to stop the witch’s rambling apologies. “I wasn’t doing anything. Just… at home.” The lack of elaboration sits heavy on his tongue. He should come up with something. Anything to hide how wretchedly alone he is. The last thing he needs is for Bodhi to pity him. It’s best to redirect instead. “What is that spell you keep trying?”

At this, Bodhi flushes darkly. His mouth works, failing to form an answer. Cassian watches, fascinated by the play of emotion across Bodhi’s face. He’s always so _expressive_ , this big, dark eyes flashing. Cassian could watch him all day if the man would only let him. “It’s um… it’s nothing, just…”

“Something for Kay?”

Bodhi’s tongue flits out to wet his lips. And Cassian’s stomach does a traitorous flip. _Damnit._ He’s so busy cursing himself that he almost misses Bodhi’s answer. “No, no,” he says, his voice lowering. “I mean it could be, in a roundabout way. ...But it’s mostly for you.”

“For me,” Cassian parrots, baffled. And there’s a touch of disbelief in his tone that he doesn’t mean to let slip through.

The other man nods helplessly.

“For me _how?_ ”

If he thought Bodhi was blushing before, now he’s positively glowing. “I was casting this… look, we do these kinds of charms all the time. Someone comes in and they ask for spells that will let them find love, or will give them success, or will keep them healthy, or any of it. I-It’s just something that focuses magic around what they want. And I… I’ve been trying to cast one to bring you happiness.”

The words die in Cassian’s mouth. The kitchen falls silent but for the gentle bubbling of the pots on the stove. He’s still sitting on Bodhi’s kitchen table. He’s still in Bodhi’s apartment. Still holding Kaytoo’s busted core.

Because… Bodhi wanted him to be happy?

“Why?”

There must be something in that single desperate breath of a question, because Bodhi, who’d had trouble meeting his eyes up to this point, lifts his gaze, something determined in the furrow of his brow. “Because you _deserve_ to be happy, Cassian. Even if it’s just in some small way.”

Speechless, Cassian thinks of appearing in the shop the night before, of lying awake wondering what it would be like to have a bed that doesn’t feel empty, of what it would feel like to have someone lying with him, around him, and wishing so hard for it to be true - and then finding himself not in his bed anymore. He thinks of tonight, gazing around at his empty apartment, his empty life, and begging for the silence to be filled with gentle laughter - and then…

Here.

Bodhi’s spell hasn’t gone wrong at all. It’s brought Cassian right where he’s happiest, for the first time in far too long.

Emotion rising thick in his throat, Cassian gingerly places Kay on the table beside him. And then he grasps hold of Bodhi’s shirt, and drags him in. And kisses him.

At first he thinks he’s made a terrible mistake, because Bodhi goes rigid against him. That single moment lasts for a terrible eternity, and then Bodhi lets out an unsteady whimper against his mouth, and sways into him. His lips go pliant and soft, parting in breathy sighs. Hands come up to cradle Cassian’s face, the single touch forcing the air from his lungs.

When they finally break apart, Cassian feels like he’s been flung to the far reaches of space and back again. It would explain the stars exploding behind his eyes. If the dazzled look on Bodhi’s face is anything to go by, he’s feeling the same. “Oh,” the mage rasps. His soulful eyes stray from Cassian’s own, down to his mouth, and he licks his lips once more, this time his eyes dark and hungry. Cassian’s heart leaps all over again. He darts in for another kiss, chasing Bodhi’s clever tongue, finally acting on the urge that’s been plaguing him for _weeks._

This time he has to wind arms around Bodhi’s waist (as if that’s a hardship) because he can actually feel the way Bodhi’s knees buckle. Their second kiss breaks with Cassian’s smile. With Bodhi’s hitched laughter.

“The spell never went wrong, did it?” Bodhi asks in sudden comprehension. He’s so warm in Cassian’s arms. If this is a dream, or an illusion brought on by magic, then Cassian is going to be downright _murderous_ when he wakes up.

“No,” he answers softly. Cassian’s head dips, pressing his face to the hollow of Bodhi’s throat and he just… stays there. Enjoying the warmth and the way Bodhi’s fingers card through his hair, a quiet affection filling the scant space between them.

They stay like that, for how long, Cassian isn’t sure. It’s the sound of a pot boiling over that finally breaks their peaceful cocoon. Bodhi gasps and leaps away, hurrying over to the stove with a quiet litany of curses as he tries to save what’s probably his dinner. Cassian watches him frantically work, spoon in one hand and the other reaching blindly for towels. The way his face is scrunching up, twisted in concentration, is entirely too endearing.

Cassian’s well aware that he’s grinning as he hops off the table, and goes to help. Another towel is passed quietly into Bodhi’s searching hand. He’s not imagining the tiny pause as their fingers brush, the way Bodhi’s eyes flick up through his lashes in bashful pleasure. It’s a moment cut out of reality, a stretch of eons between breaths. And then Bodhi clears his throat, and quickly wipes the stove down.

“Aren’t spellcasting and cooking supposed to be similar?” he teases gently.

Despite the gentle blush on his cheeks, the glance Bodhi shoots him is nothing short of mischievous. “It is,” he says simply. “Which is why you’re never allowed in the workroom when I’m casting.” A smile, small and sweet and _wicked_ curls his lips. Cassian’s heart does a dizzying swoop in his chest.

“Oh? Why is that?” His voice sounds unfamiliar to his own ears.

“You are… _distracting._ Everybody knew about it. They never let me hear the end of it.”

They’re leaning closer again. Drifting into each other’s space as if it’s their very nature - like the thought of being apart is laughable. But if Cassian starts kissing the mage again, he knows he’s never going to want to stop. So he adjusts, tilting his head to brush a nuzzling kiss along Bodhi’s cheek. He can’t help but stay there for a moment, pressing his nose into the softness of Bodhi’s hair and breathing in the sweet, warm scent of him.

An arm goes around his waist, lips shyly pecking his jawline - chaste, but still somehow managing to make Cassian’s heart race. “Would… would you like to stay for dinner?” Bodhi offers.

He smiles. “Am I going to be banned from the kitchen if I say yes?”

“Yes! But… I’ll go with you. I can leave this to boil for a bit. We could start a movie?” Bodhi reaches for his hand, eyes gone molten and promising. Cassian has little idea what he’s in for, but he knows that the notion of doing anything else is impossible for him.

“I’d love to,” he says lowly, and lets himself be led from the room.

Kay’s core remains where it is on the table, stalwart and silent as the sounds of the television filter into the room. Even as the other inhabitants of the apartment come bustling in and out of the kitchen, taking food and their laughter with them. And even longer still, when the quiet conversation, smiles in their voices, fades into tender whispers and shaking, breathless sighs.

Light flickers over the  scratched metal, through the crystalline stone. It’s there and gone, an approximation of sly chuckling. But it’s content, too.

It’s not time yet. But maybe soon.

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

**END.**


End file.
